


Blackwater truths

by Maracuya



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - The Battle of the Blackwater, Episode: s02e09 Blackwater, F/M, Heartache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/pseuds/Maracuya
Summary: This was written for the SanSan Russian Roulette on Tumblr.Prompt: Battle of the Blackwater: Sandor accidently says “Our sons will be killers some day” instead of “your sons will be killers some day”.





	Blackwater truths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AzraelGFG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzraelGFG/gifts).



> I don't own anything. All the credits go to Grrm, and I won't make any profit from this.

Fuck. Too much wine. Had Sansa really just said she wanted to stay in the Red Keep? That she believed Stannis's men not to harm her? Stupid little bird.

The flickering light of the garish green flames from the Blackwater came in through the window and almost sent him reeling. Or the wine. Blasted shit.

 

Sandor pushed her back, then growled, “Stannis is a killer. The Lannisters are killers. Your father was a killer. Your brother is a killer. Your sons will be killers someday –“

He stopped short, because something changed in Sansa's eyes. She blinked.

“What, girl?” he snarled.

Sansa's brow creased.

“ _Our_ sons will be killers?”

Sandor stiffened.

“I said YOUR sons. Got no ears, like a bird?”

Sansa shook her head lightly.

“No,” she peeped. “You said OUR sons.”

 

Sandor grabbed her chin and forced it up.

He huffed, “Pah! You're wrong. Why would I say such a thing?”

Sansa shrugged.

“Yes – why?”

Sandor bowed and puked against the wall. Sansa inched aside. Afterwards, Sandor wiped his mouth. The little bird was still looking at him.  _She was looking at him!_ Fuck.

 

Sandor laughed madly.

“That would be something, eh? Best jape ever. The filthy crossbreed of a wolf and a rabid dog. People would want my pelt, and the pup's, too. I'd kill the pup first. And you.”

 

Sansa gazed at him.

“You won't hurt me.”

Sandor's sounds of levity subsided. He could hear the sounds of the battle again. Damn, this was all going to pieces.

“No, I won't hurt you, little bird,” he growled. “And no crossbreed pups. Still in for a lion chimera, are you?”

Sandor snorted and vomited a second time.

 

When he looked up, Sansa handed him a handkerchief. To his surprise, it was his own one.

“Keeping that rag? Want to keep my Kingsguard cloak, too? Got no use for it anymore.”

He wiped his face, took off the bedraggled cloak and tossed it into her direction like he had done once before.

 

Sansa made a step into his direction. Was she thinking he wouldn't puke again? Likely, she wasn't thinking at all, Sandor guessed.

She was still looking at him. Sandor felt the need to make a step back. Then, Sansa lifted a hand. Cupped his face.

 

“You know...,” she whispered, “... in the years to come... with all the pain and sorrow ahead... I'll always dream of the crossbreed pups that aren't meant to be.”

Sansa was close. For a moment, Sandor thought she'd kiss him. But then, she looked away.

 

Sandor noticed his cheeks were dirty from different fluids. 

“ _Pathetic dog,”_ he thought.

 

He stepped back. Needed to get out.

What did the clueless bird know about breeding? What did Sansa know about anything? She used to fancy Joffrey – she didn't even know her heart.

 

Yet, even while Sandor was turning around, he wondered what he was leaving behind.

 


End file.
